By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude.
Nina Katchadourian - Mended Spiderwebs (1998)
“In the forest and around the house where I was living, I searched for broken spiderwebs which I repaired using red sewing thread. All of the patches were made by inserting segments one at a time directly into the web. I fixed the holes in the web until it was fully repaired, or until it could no longer bear the weight of the thread.
In the process, I often caused further damage when the tweezers got tangled in the web or when my hands brushed up against it by accident.
The morning after the first patch job, I discovered a pile of red threads lying on the ground below the web. At first I assumed the wind had blown them out; on closer inspection it became clear that the spider had repaired the web to perfect condition using its own methods, throwing the threads out in the process.
My repairs were always rejected by the spider and discarded, usually during the course of the night, even in webs which looked abandoned.”
(Source: likeafieldmouse, via cottonbutts)
this night is caressing me with uncertainty. im feeling the disconnect that comes with missing a country. not so much the country but the smell that resides therein. that smell is something that i think about often and catch gentle wafts of, but really i only imagine it because that scent belongs to one thing and one thing only.
“This was never my world. You took the angel away.”